


The Heart of Darkness

by JBGRiMm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Hurt, Monsters, Multi, Prostitution, Sex, Slow Build, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 09:51:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2383910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JBGRiMm/pseuds/JBGRiMm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has a little darkness inside them. Especially in Beacon Hills. That's what Joseph Armand's life is about, to find the people who's darkness is more than just bad thoughts, and destroy them. But when he saves a young prostitute from a demon, he gets drawn into a world he never expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost

_“I’m gonna go easy,” The larger man traced a finger down the boy’s side, the slight sensation sending shivers own his spine. The boy half closed his eyes, and choked out a breath. “Easy…gentle…,”the man murmured, pressing his lips to the side of his throat, nuzzling. He moved his head down, reaching his arms around the boy and then lifting him up, his lips never leaving the skin. He walked through the apartment, always nuzzling, always murmuring soft words…._

_And then it felt like ice had grown inside the boy’s body._

_He gasped, but it didn't alert the man, who took it as arousal. The boy looked around. Nothing had changed but something was wrong. The man stopped at a door and turned on a light. The boy saw tiles, a sink…they were in a bathroom. “Wh..what..?” the boy asked, shifting nervously in the man’s arms. “Shhh….we’ll go to the bedroom later…for now, the first time gets…messy.” The man put him down, and then knelt, removing his pants and boxers, sliding them down his legs with an easy, fluid motion. He’s done this before, the boy realized. For some reason it seemed more sinister than that this man was clearly no virgin…no it was something else. The man gently pushed him towards the tub, making him sit on the edge when the backs of his knee’s hit the edge. He knelt in front of the boy, and kissed his mouth. The boy whimpered- it felt like ice spreading down his throat. “Hey….,” the man said, stroking the side of his face “what’s wrong?” “I…nothing, I don’t….,” “I get it. Its your first time,” the man pulled back, and looked at him, appraising him with his blue eyes. He leaned in and kissed the boy’s forehead. “I promise you I’m going to make it special,” he said, and then pushed the boy back into the tub, so he lay lengthwise, looking up._

_The man stood up, seeming impossibly tall from the boy’s low vantage point. The man smiled, and the boy saw something shift in his eyes. Something that hardened them, made them crueler and more vicious. The man looked him right in the eyes, and then he changed._

_The boy was screaming when the man lunged down at him._

***

Scott sighed, and then rubbed his hands together to keep them warm. It was a chilly night, particularly on the bench where he was sitting, with no protection aside from his flannel shirt. Which, of course, he had to keep open to show off his wife-beater clad body. Fuck. Stiles and Danny had already been picked up; Stiles by a standard, closeted businessman on his way home from work and Danny by a guy in a white truck. They probably wouldn't be back for another hour at least. If they’d been there Scott could have huddled with them and shared warmth, like they always did. But now his only chance to get warm was to hope he got picked up soon before it got much colder. Scott leaned back, looking upwards. Despite the city lights, you could still make out the faint impressions of stars. He imagined, briefly, that they made the face of his mother. He remember a time, about two years ago, that he’d walked home from work in the middle of December, and when he got home she took one look at him and then plopped him down on the sofa with a blanket and a bowl of canned soup. He smiled, and then other thoughts got into his mind.

The memory of the phone call. The rush to the hospital. Being told by the doctor that they were too late. And then the months after that, being hurt by his father, smashed whiskey bottles, and finally, one night, hearing his father’s steps on the stairs, and then a crash.

The EMT’s said that he’d fallen down the stairs after drinking. The police had been good with that reason, until one of them had noticed Scott’s black eye and broken finger. Before too long, they’d become hooked on the idea that Scott had killed his father, and why not? He was an abuse victim, he was lower class, he was half Latino- violence was an expected stereotype. So he ran. He’d run from the cops, from San Diego, and wound up in Beacon Hills, a small city where he thought things would be different. A year and half later, and he was a prostitute, without a high school diploma and he was probably getting frostbite.

Nope, not much better.

Footsteps pulled him out of his memories. He glanced up and saw a man walking down the sidewalk slowly. He reposition himself to look as appealing as possible, but then stopped. Something seemed off. As the man stepped closer, Scott saw that he wasn't a man, just a kid in a beat up hoodie. That was a problem. “Hey get outta here!” he yelled, standing and trying to look threatening. Kids like him were never johns, and he couldn't handle any competition. The guy just kept walking though, and as he got closer Scott saw a hollow, dead look in his eyes. He passed right by Scott, walking less than two feet in front of him and no even seeing him. And he kept walking. Scott watched him go, and then looked down, and noticed something dark on the pavement. He bent down, and realized that it was blood. He looked up, and saw a dark line dripping from the kids hand onto the sidewalk. “Hey, are you okay?” Scott asked, his hard demeanor cracking. The kid just kept moving, and eventually disappeared into the dark. Scott looked after him, and then sat back down. Twenty minutes later, he got picked up by a trucker and managed to haggle more than his usual price. But in the weeks to come, he never forgot the kid, and hoped that he was ok. Wherever he was.

***

_The boy had screamed, and then on instinct driven the heel of his hand into the nose of the oncoming face. The thing pulled back in pain, and the boy scrambled out of the tub. Its pain didn't last long, and it came right back at him, swinging its arms and trying to bite him. The boy ducked, and then caught him in the midriff. He pushed him back, slamming him into the door. He pushed, but a moment later he felt a pair of enormous hands on him, and then he was being thrown back. He hit the mirror over the sink, smashing it, and then slid off the counter and into the hallway. Dazed, he could barely struggle when the thing had come back and pinned him to the ground with its huge body._

_“You know,” it said, and despite its monstrous appearance, it still sounded exactly like the man who’d taken him home earlier “I normally wait until after they’re dead before I eat them, but in your case-I’m going to enjoy this. Maybe I’ll even do you first, hmm? Won’t let you die a virgin.” It’s black lips pulled back showing fangs, in what was a a truly horrifying smile. With all the effort of tossing a pillow, he flipped the boy over and pulled one arm across his chest, pinning his body to the boy’s. Panicking, knowing what would happen next, the boy grasped at anything he could, the wall, the carpet, the hand holding him, the…_

_….shard from the broken mirror._

_The boy grabbed it and sunk it into the thing’s leg. The effect was immediate. It howled in pain and let go. Quickly the boy rolled away and grabbed another shard, and before he even thought about it, turned at shoved it into its throat. For a moment, nothing happened. It looked at him with a mixture of…almost puzzlement. Then he fell backwards, and the boy could tell he was dead. He let out a breath he didn't realize he’d been holding, ad then looked at it’s face. When he’d met the man earlier, he’d had a head of blonde hair and fair skin. Now…his lips had blackened and cracked, and his skin had taken on a grayish tone. The hair had receded leaving the scalp bald. The teeth had become long and sharp, and at the end of each finger was a curved, black talon. The boy noticed twin streaks of red on his right arm, and realized that they’d probably cut him. Some part of him realized that he was still naked, and he entered the bathroom, careful to step around the broken mirror. He put on his pants, and then turned to leave. Thats when he saw the body. In all of fifteen seconds, it had started turning to dust. Already the eyes were shallow bowls filled with grey powder. As he watched, a finger turned grayer, and then crumbled into dust._

_After that things blurred. He didn't remember dressing or leaving, but the next thing he knew he was on the street, walking. He was dimly aware of cars and people, and of the blood on his arm and head, but he couldn't really perceive them. All he kept seeing was that things face as it came at him. At some point he started seeing the eyes as grey powder, and the crumbling body instead. At one point he heard someone yelling at him, and then calling out after him in a gentler voice, but it didn't matter._

_He was lost._


	2. Saved

Four Months Later

Danny was getting annoyed.

"Take it fucker," the guy groaned, back pressed against the wall of the alley. Danny mumbled around the cock in his mouth. The guy redoubled his efforts, probably spurred on by what he thought was a rent boy choking on his huge dick. In reality, Danny had said "will you just come already?". This was the reason he hated Jungle. The douchebags who came out of the club were always so drunk they took forever to come. He'd been sucking this guy for fifteen minutes now, and so far, nothing. Danny considered bolting with the money, but thought better of it. He remembered once, when he was first starting out, he'd tried that. He got away the first time, but the second time the guy had caught him and would have beat the shit out of him if Stiles hadn't shown up. Stiles had broken an empty whiskey bottle over the tricks head, and taken Danny back to his place to heal. It had been Stiles who'd taught him how to be a good rent boy, how to pick out cops from tricks, how much to charge, when to recognize a trick you should avoid. 

He owed him a lot. 

Eventually the guy came, barely spilling anything into the condom. Danny got up and left without even bothering to look back at the guy. Making it to the street, he glanced around. It was one in the morning, and the crowd was pretty thick. Danny sighed, and positioned himself at the edge of the building, waiting for his next trick.

Three hours later, Danny was done. He'd managed to blow seven people, so that was $140. Not the best for one night, but not so bad. He headed down the street, tired, and ready to sleep and forget about his life and all the shit. 

Truth was, despite having been doing this since he was fourteen, Danny still felt...dirty. Unlike some rent boys, he was actually gay, not just hungry and desperate for cash. Doing this made him feel like everything his dad had shouted at him in time to the blows was right. He wasn't normal. He wasn't good. He was a whore. Danny shook his head, trying to rid the memories. That had been three years ago. He had to forget. A wind picked up and he shivered. He was in a hoodie, but it wasn't enough to keep out the biting February chill, even in California. As he walked, a light snow began to drift down. 

 _Fucking climate change,_ he thought. He was out of the clubbing district and into one of the more shadier areas of the city. He wasn't overly worried. He had a bottle of pepper spray and a knife in case things got to be a problem, and he was good with his fists. But he looking like he did, he didn't think anyone would take him for a target. He let his eyes drift down to the pavement, watching the snowflakes dust the slabs of the sidewalk. They were so pretty, so clean. He had the strangest desire to get down and roll around in the flakes, so that maybe they'd cleanse him, make him innocent and good again. 

Then he heard it. It was a small noise, but it was enough. Danny stopped, and looked around. The street was empty in all directions. He kept still listening. There was a rush of air behind him, and he turned to see....

Nothing. There was no one. Then he looked down. The fallen snow was blown out in a straight path to the wall of the building, as if something had passed over it. Before he could make anything of this, Danny was acutely aware of someone behind him before he was grabbed and a hand was pressed over his mouth.

***

_When he'd made it back to his "home", the boy had collapsed, shaking._

_His home was an old shed behind a collapsed factory building. On one wall a cracked mirror hung, and he looked at it. His face looked normal, so did everything else. But..._

_What had that thing been? How...?_

_There were no questions. Something as impossible as that...there were no questions, because there were no answers. There couldn't be._

_So he just sat there, huddled under his sleeping bag. Hours passed. Eventually he saw light around the edge of the door, signaling the end of the night. He still didn't move. He didn't move for the entire day, just sat there and turned over everything in his head. The light moved up the wall, until eventually it was gone and everything went dark again. He still didn't move. At some point he fell asleep. And began to dream._

_\- He was a little kid again. And he was running through a garden, full of stunted pine trees and rocks, all arranged around a small,_ _irregular pool. In one corner a weeping cherry tree let down sprays of pink flowers. And he was happy. He ducked behind a rock and crouched down. Suddenly a pair of arms reached down and grabbed him, pulling him into a warm, familiar body. He looked up into the smiling face of a woman with long, dark blond hair, the same color as his own._

_"Mommy! You found me," he said._

_"I always will sweetheart," she said, pressing her forehead to his._

_Then she was gone. But it was okay. He was still in the garden, but nowhere was an old man there. He sat on one of the rocks by the pool, holding a long, curved sword in his lap. He ran a piece of white silk up and down the blade, polishing it until it was as shiny as a mirror. He walked over to the old man, curious._

_"Why are you doing that, grandpa?" he asked. His grandpa looked up. His skin was light brown, with fierce dark eyes. His mouth was stern, and he looked angry, but he boy could tell he wasn't._

_"If blood stays on the katana, then it buries its way into the blade, and destroys it from within. But if you clean it off, it can last forever."_

_Grandpa finished cleaning the blade, and then slid it into a sheath. He tied a ribbon around the top. Then he laid it across his lap, and looked at the boy._

_"We have to do that to the world. We must clean it of that which wants to bury itself in, and destroy it."_

_"I am old, little Tonbo. One day, you will have to take up this blade, and use it to protect the innocent."_

_"Grandpa I don't know how."_

_"You will."_

___

_The boy opened his eyes, and realized something was different. He couldn't place it, but it was there. Then he realized. He could think again. He was no longer paralyzed by the unknown. He sat up, and let the sleeping bag fall off. He looked at his arm, and saw the scabbed over cuts. He sat for a moment, and then got up. He had a lot to do._

_+_

_It was a ten miles from Beacon Hills to the tiny town where his grandfather had lived. The boy walked the whole way, mind set on a goal. He made it to the outskirts of the town- Davenford- by sunset. He walked down unfamiliar streets, trying to ignore the looks people were giving him. These people were from a  smaller town. They weren't used to seeing homeless kids, and didn't really know how to react. He shook of their looks and kept walking. After wandering around for most of the night, he finally found the street where his grandfathers house was. He stood for a minute, looking at the wooden wall that surrounded it. The last time he'd been there had been for his grandfathers funeral. Apparently, no one had ever bought the house. He scrambled over the wall and landed on the gravel of the garden. It was just as he'd remembered it, down to the cherry tree, although it was no longer in bloom. He made his way across the garden, stepping over the dried up pool to the house. He slid the glass door open, and stepped in. The house smelled stale, but the boy paid it no mind. He was more focused on finding the katana. He looked around, opening closets and doors, but then stopped. Something, something as unexplainable as the thing from two nights before, was telling him to look behind him. He did. On the floor was a long, low chest. The boy crossed to it, and knelt. A layer of dust covered it, but he brushed it off and then opened it. And there was the sword. It rested on a stand, curved side up. There were other things in the box as well. A smaller curved knife, like the sword. A metal rod with a ring in the middle capped with pointed_ _ends. A pair of throwing stars made of dark metal. A slim book bound in linen, and a few scrolls of rice paper. And a letter, marked "Tonbo". The boy took the letter, marked with his nickname, and opened it._

_-Tonbo,_

_Everything in this case is for you. I took it from me when I left Japan, and it was gifted to me by my father, who was given it by his father before him, and so on down the line. We have guarded innocent people from the unseen ones for as long as memory goes back and stories are told. They are dark spirits, given human form and wearing the masks of men and women. There are fewer left than there were not so long ago, for our kind has poured their blood into ridding the earth of them. But this has only made the remaining ones stronger, more adaptive, and more driven to survive._

_They must be destroyed. The scrolls and book will help you. Go forth with my blessing, and remember that nothing can last forever._

_Until we see each other again,_

_\- Tsukino Nisabro._

_The boy put the letter down. And then packed everything he could in his backpack. The katana was too long, but he found a length of white silk and wrapped it up. He carried it under his arm all the way back to Beacon Hills._

_***_

Before Danny could even process what was happening, he had been pulled off the street and over a manhole cover. There was a brief pause as something ripped off the cover, and then they were dropping down the hole and then flying down a dark, dank tunnel. Danny tried to struggle, but whatever the thing was it had an iron grip on him. Suddenly he was in a large, lit area, and he was thrown to the ground, landing uncomfortably on something. Dazed, Danny struggled to his feet, and in the process saw what he'd landed on- a dead body. Danny started back, unable to look away from the corpse. It was milk white, and the eyes had glazed over. And the mouth was open in a silent scream. A noise behind him made Danny turn around, and for the first time he saw where he was. 

It was a large space, made by the junctions of several tunnels. Candles were lumped in clusters all around the room, reflecting off of the water that pooled in the middle of the floor. And there were bodies. At least ten. Some lay on the floor, others hung from the ceiling, all in various stages of decay. And against a wall, in the driest part of the room, sat a throne. It was an old green-leather armchair, but it had been decorated with strange designs painted with something dark that Danny had the sickening notion was blood. But Danny was more preoccupied with the person on the throne. He was an older man, perhaps in his mid forties. He wore a dark wool suit on, and he was smiling in a way that was scaring the hell out of him. 

"So," said the man, still smiling "Daniel. Am I right?" Dumbly, Danny nodded.

"I'm sure you're...concerned about whats happening to you. I just want to assure you, that everything is alright."

Danny shot one look at the bodies.

"Oh, don't worry about them," the man said, and Danny started back- in the space of a second, the man had gone form the chair to two feet in front of him.

"No, you're not going to die. Look at you," he purred, reaching out a hand. Danny tried to move back, but the man's other hand shot out and grabbed his shoulder in a painful grip, holding him in place. He traced his other hand over Danny's face.

"So beautiful, so perfect." The man took his hand away, and just looked at Danny. He began nodding.

"I've been watching you for some time, Daniel. I was watching tonight when you pleasured all those men-" Danny felt something twist in his stomach "and I've watched before. Don't you ever get tired of feeling like a whore?"

Before he could stop himself, Danny nodded.

"I wish to give you a gift. A chance to be born anew. With your new powers, you'll never have to do that to yourself again. You'll need only the life-force of the living to survive."

The man smiled again, and Danny saw a pair of glistening fangs. 

"It has been years since I found a human worthy of my bite. I cannot wait to see what you emerge from your transformation as, Daniel. But  can assure you, it will be beautiful." The man leaned in, and Daniel tried to move but his grip was too strong. He saw the mans head bend over his shoulder, and felt something sharp and cold as ice touch his skin. 

And then there was a terrible scream. It echoed from one of the tunnels, but it sounded like it came from the very walls. The man drew back, fangs bared. Two people, a man and woman with pale skin and fangs like the man, came flying out of one of the tunnels.

"Michael! What is happening?" Yelled the man.

"Forgive me Master" said one of the men ", he's here! He killed Benjamin and Sarah, and he wounded Isaiah but he's probably dead now and he's..." A pale flash lashed out at the hysterical mans face, and Danny realized the man-the one Michael had called Master- had slapped him.

'Who!" roared the Master. 

"A hunter! wailed Michael. 

"Master, we must flee!" said the woman, "before he.."

A twanging sound echoed through the room. The woman looked surprised, and then fell forward, an arrow sticking out of her head. For a moment. No one spoke. A thin plume of smoke rose up from the shaft.

"Thuja," whispered the Master. He let go of Danny, and turned towards the tunnel. It was silent.

"Can you hear me, hunter?" he yelled. In answer there was another twanging sound, and a pale flash shot out of the tunnel. The Master caught it, stopping the arrow before it pierced his chest. Smoke curled up from his fist, and he dropped the arrow, letting it fall to the floor. 

"You come into my home and kill my family? I will make you wish you were dead! Your death will take years, hunter!" 

There was silence from the tunnel, and then a grating, slippery sound, like dragging a fingernail over a metal surface. The Master shot a glance over to Michael, and then motioned with his head that he wanted Michael to get closer to the tunnel. Trembling, Michael walked closer, until he was just at the lip of the tunnel. He paused, listening. And then something dark leapt out of the tunnel. It landed in the middle of the room, and then stood up, revealing itself to be a young man wearing a black hoodie and a black scarf covering his neck and throat. He turned half toward Michael and swung his arms, and for the first time Danny saw what he was holding- a long, Japanese style sword. Michael leaped back inhumanly fast, and then lunged the the man with a desperate cry, fangs bared. The man sidestepped, and then swung the sword down.

Michaels body hit the ground, and his head rolled into the water. Danny watched, transfixed as blood seeped out of the head and into the murky water, turning the candle reflections into sparkles of ruby light. He didn't even turn his head when he heard the Master speak.

"You killed my children!" There was a rush of air, and then the sound of a blade parrying off of something hard. At last Danny turned to look at them. The Master was circling the Hunter, who turned to mirror the Masters movements. Every so often the Master would lash at the man with his claws, and the man would flick the sword to parry them away in a sharp, snapping motion. Eventually the Master just stood ready, waiting for the man to make a move. The hunter did not oblige him.

"Make your move hunter," snarled the Master "I can go without sleep for days. How long can you last?"

The hunter's eyes hardened, but he did not move.

"Are you afraid to fight a _Moroi Mare_ , hunter? I'm stronger than any of my children. I was sired by the _Regele Strigoi_ himself, two hundred years ago! I've tortured and killed three hunters, and you will..."

It happened so fast Danny almost missed it. The hunter swung the sword in a circle, slashing it across the upper thighs of the Master. The Master fell forward, and turned the fall into a lunge, catching the hunter in the side with his claws. The hunter tilted away from the pain, and impossibly fast the Master had caught him and pinned his arms and head. 

"Die, hunter!" he roared, and sunk his teeth into the mans neck.

There was a cracking sound, and the Master reared back in pain, grasping at his mouth. He took his hand away for a second, and Danny saw a stream of blood pouring from his broken fang. The hunter leapt up on one foot, and then brought his sword down in one smooth motion, severing the Masters head from his body. 

For a moment afterwards, the hunter just stood there. Then he took the sword, and running it along his hand on the flat of the blade, put it back in the sheath tied to his lower back. Then he turned and looked at Danny. Before Danny could do anything, the man had strode over to him, and pulled down his hoodie to examine the spot where the Master had put his mouth on him. He looked at it for a moment, and then turned away. He started walking, but then stopped, and looked down at his side. 

And then he collapsed. 

Danny acted on instinct and ran over. That was when he saw the blood seeping into the man's hoodie. Danny peeled back the shirt, and saw deep cuts on the man's abdomen. He knew the man needed medical attention, but where...

Then he saw that the mans scarf had come loose, and grabbed that to use as a bandage. He pressed it against the cuts, and then used the rest of the scarf to tie it in place. after that he glanced back at the man's face, and stopped.

The man wasn't a man at all. It was a kid. Younger than Danny, probably no more than fourteen or fifteen. He had dark brown hair and pale skin covered by a sheen of sweat. For a moment Danny was stunned. Then he gently picked up the kid and headed down the tunnel.

It was time for him to do for the kid what Stiles had done for him all those years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so we've met Scott. We've met Danny. Next up is Stiles!
> 
> Also, a note: In Asian names, the last name is put first, so the grandfather's first name is Nisabro, not Tsukino.  
> Also Nisabro was the name of my great grandfather, so its my way of paying respect.
> 
> The hunter (who for now is unnamed, but that might change depending on how long I feel like torturing my readers mwah ha ha) is of partial Japanese descent, mixed with mostly European blood, which is why he isn't described a s Asian. 
> 
> As always, comments would be appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, not announcing pairings yet, really just wanna see where this all goes.  
> Please comment, I need the criticism.


End file.
